Being Alive
by AriandEzra
Summary: Ezra Fitz, an aspiring playwright, seeks the help of the very successful Byron Montgomery. But little does he know of the young muse that waits behind the doors of his mentor's townhouse.
1. Chapter 1

**I know you guys are all probably waiting for an update of POHH. Trust me, I'm not giving up on that story, nor am I giving up on Lost, But Found. However, I really want to get back in the hang of writing before I update POHH, especially with the turn I plan to take the story on. Hence, here comes this little diddy. It's actually something I've been waiting to write for a long time. **

**If you guys don't know, I'm a huge Broadway nut. I've always wanted to find a way to tie Broadway into Ezria and I'd like to thank Emily (writer of El Tango De Fitz and other many great stories) for helping me out in figuring out a plot. I'd also like to thank Lyndsey for her constant support in my writing. **

**So, here goes! Please leave me your reviews and let me know what you think! 10+ will get you another chapter quicker!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. I wish I did for so many reasons. **

* * *

_Ten Years Earlier_

* * *

"Why can't you come over today?" Ezra Fitz listened to his girlfriend, Rose prattle on about the necessity of his presence as she tried on the dresses she'd picked out for prom. He'd always figured seeing a girl's prom dress had the same superstitious equivalent as seeing a bridge in her wedding dress before she walked towards him down the aisle.

He shrugged, closing the metal door of his locker with a slight slam. As much as he liked having someone to keep him warm when he watched movies, Ezra was starting to second guess ever asking Rose out. They'd met in his Film Studies class and while she seemed to be interested in the things he talked about, Rose came up short when Ezra brought up a book of a classic black and white film. She didn't make him feel alive.

"I have my mentorship today, remember; with Byron Montgomery?" Landing one of the top Broadway book writers as a mentor could only be the result of going to a prestigious private school on the Upper East Side. However, Ezra wasn't going to blow this like he assumed many of his classmates would. He dabbled in composing here and there, but becoming a playwright was his dream; learning from Byron Montgomery would be taking a step in the right direction.

"Oh right, the guy who writes all the scripts for musicals," Rose replied nonchalantly, chomping on the stick of gum she could now chew after school hours. "I forgot."

Ezra rolled his eyes. He expected nothing less from the blonde standing to his right. Rose's company was starting to dull just as much as her brain had over the course of high school.

"I don't see why you couldn't intern at Daddy's. Every guy in school would kill for a position in the corporate world…"

"Except for me," he replied, cutting Rose off before she could finish her sentence. It was always the same conversation with anybody – his girlfriend, his mother, his aunts and uncles. _Why don't you join the family business instead of going out on a limb in a field like __**writing**__?_ And every time, Ezra would roll his eyes and simply tell them he'd rather do something that made him happy. "I've really got to go," he said, slinging his backpack onto his shoulders. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The blonde scampered after him, trying to deter Ezra of his mentorship plans and lure him into her bedroom. Any teenage boy would be nuts to give up a proposed romp in the sack with Rose, however Ezra wasn't like most teenage boys. He preferred Shakespeare to action movies and studying films to playing ridiculous video games. Ezra didn't call himself pretentious – he called himself passionate.

Over Rose's beckoning, he continued to walk whilst running a hand through tufts of his curly, jet black hair. "I said I'll talk to you tomorrow," Ezra yelled as he pushed open the door and exited out into the bright sunshine that New York could only offer.

* * *

A brick townhouse was Ezra's new place of study. He'd half expected Byron to live in a large penthouse at the top of building made out of only glass. But then again, his new mentor seemed to be more on the edge with what he wrote. A penthouse didn't seem to do for his writing style. Ezra pictured Byron Montgomery to be a bachelor who sat by a fire and drank scotch while typing out his latest creation on a type writer.

He used the brass knocker to knock on the door of the townhouse. Ezra tapped his foot nervously on the small front stoop, surrounded by an iron gate. He'd buzzed himself in so someone had to come let him inside eventually. Perhaps it would be Byron's assistant or maid of some sort. The boy chewed on his bottom lip as he waited for the dark mahogany door to pull back and grant him entrance to the world of playwriting that was right at his fingertips.

Leaning back against the wrought iron banister, Ezra whistled a tune as he loitered. It was a piece he'd tinkered out on the piano a few weeks back out of frustration with Rose. The sour memory of his girlfriend was conjured up in Ezra's mind. Quickly, he shook it from the confines of his head. Rose wouldn't ruin this for him.

Finally, the door pulled back and he braced himself, regaining his stance of an eager student rather an impatient teenager.

"You must be Dad's mentee." The last person Ezra ever expected to greet him at Byron Montgomery's house was a little girl. His blue eyes flickered down to the petite girl standing in the doorway. She was tiny, tinier than any person he'd ever seen before. Dark, thick hair rested against her shoulders and curled down to her waist, although half was pulled back into a ponytail at the back of her head. She had pouty pink lips that were pressed into a thin line as she waited for his response and her hazel eyes seemed to size Ezra up in a way he felt a little girl shouldn't be doing. "Are you going to answer me or do I have to call the cops?"

"S—sorry," Ezra said in a flustered manner. She was aggressive for such a little thing. "I'm Ezra, your _dad's_ mentee. Is he home?"

"Don't look too shocked," the girl replied. "The great Byron Montgomery does indeed have a daughter. He just doesn't want me in the spotlight." She shoved out an equally petite pale hand towards Ezra. "Aria and no, he isn't home. He was just out grabbing some new ink for his typewriter. He told me to let you in though, should you show up on time."

At least Ezra had been right about the typewriter part.

"Well, thank you," he said as Aria moved aside to let Ezra in. She shut the door behind them with a bang and ushered him into the kitchen. It had high ceilings and a checkered floor. There was a huge oven in the corner of the room with a brass vent overhanging the gas stove. An island rested in the middle of the kitchen, laden with various cookies and bags of junk food that could only belong to Aria.

She pulled herself up onto the island and swung her tiny legs back and forth. "Do you want something to eat or drink? I'll let you break into my stash, but only because I'm depending on you to help me put it all away before Dad gets home." Aria raised her eyebrow teasingly, moving a box of Entenmanns cookies under Ezra's nose as if to tempt him.

"How could I resist," Ezra said, nabbing the box from Aria's hands. He plucked a cookie out of the cardboard and broke off a piece, popping it into his mouth. He'd forgotten how good things like cookies tasted. Life with Diane Fitz, his mother, was a life of organic and homegrown things she had the maid pick up at overpriced grocery stores. No cookies, no chips, no junk food. She had even put a ban on coffee. "I'm not allowed to have this at home."

"Seriously," Aria asked, disbelief coloring her face as she dug into a bag of Lay's Barbecue Chips. "I mean, my dad doesn't really like me eating all this crap, but I think he's figured out my stash by now – just hasn't said anything. How old are you anyways? You look old enough to make your own choices when it comes to eating."

"I'm 16," Ezra replied as he popped another cookie into his mouth. "And like my mother says, until I'm 18, my choices are under her jurisdiction."

"That's not very fair." Aria sighed, chomping down on a chip.

"It's not, but what can I do," he shrugged, closing the box of cookies. "How old are _you_? You look a bit too young to be making such brash statements."

The girl hopped off the counter and went towards the stainless steel fridge. A cold blast came from the inside as she opened up the door and rooted around for something to drink. "I'm 12, but when you grow up alone most of the time, you learn to be mature."

"Alone?" Ezra raised an eyebrow. If Byron was never around, where was her mother? Or a nanny? "No mom, no nanny?"

"My mom died when I was born," Aria murmured as she poured herself a glass of Coca-Cola. "And my nannies only come round when Dad has to go to London to help mount one of his shows on the West End. So it's really just me most of the time. But I like having you here. It gives me someone to talk to."

Just as Ezra opened his mouth to speak, a clanging of keys sounded from the front door. Aria downed the glass she'd poured herself and then shoved the 4 liter bottle of soda to the back of the fridge before slamming it shut. "Quick," she said while running towards the island. "All this needs to go away before he gets in here."

Ezra gulped nervously. Here he was aiding and abetting his mentor's daughter in getting away with eating junk food. But even against his better judgment to let Aria get caught, he helped her out; they'd made a deal after all. He grabbed the box of cookies and tossed it into the pantry, following it up with a bag of Hershey kisses and another bag of chips.

"Hurry," Aria chimed as she poured them both two glasses of water. "Act natural."

Closing the pantry door lightly, Ezra made it back to a stool around the kitchen island just before Byron could walk into the kitchen. He'd seen his picture a few times, but only from his earlier years before his career really took off. Byron's hairline had begun to recede and there were bags under his eyes from the constant nights of work. But none the less, he placed a jovial smile on his face and walked towards Ezra with an outstretched hand.

"You must be Ezra. Thanks for keeping Aria company; I hope she wasn't any trouble." The man's eyes flitted towards his daughter suspiciously as she sat with an almost too innocent smile.

"She was fine," Ezra nodded, looking back towards Aria as she sipped from her glass. The girl winked at him before pushing off the stool and going to pick up her backpack from the corner of the kitchen.

"I'm going to do my homework. It was nice meet you, Ezra. See you around." The little brunette left the room with an air of grace that Ezra hadn't ever seen from an 11 year old before.

Byron chuckled, leaning against the counter as he watched his daughter leave the room. "Quite the character, isn't she?"

Ezra couldn't have agreed more. Aria had most certainly been a character. But he hadn't expected to feel more alive with a little girl than he did with his gorgeous blonde girlfriend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all so much for your response to this story! It makes me so happy because I really enjoy writing it.  
**

**I now present to you the second chapter. You know the deal; 20+ reviews gets you a faster update! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story or any ideas you might have!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.**

* * *

The New York City air was musky and sticky as Ezra stepped out of his cab on Washington Square Street. He adjusted his tie before charging forth into the air conditioned auditorium of NYU. He was late; he knew he was late and he hoped the dean hadn't made it to the 'M's already. If he missed Aria get her diploma, there would be hell to pay from the tiny brunette. There was only one seat and it was in the way back which Ezra slid into quickly. It appeared that Byron had gotten tired of waiting on his mentee and picked up whatever jacket he had been using to save his seat.

When he was 16, Ezra never thought he'd be sitting and waiting for quirky Aria Montgomery to graduate from college 10 years later. Either Byron had saw enough potential to continue mentoring him or Aria begged and pleaded with her father not to dispose of her new friend, but whatever it was, it had spurred a lifelong friendship between himself and the daughter of his mentor.

He'd been through the graduation process; in fact, this was the very auditorium he'd taken away his diploma and threw his cap up into the air five years ago. Ezra remembered waiting in his purple polyester graduation gown, his brow sweating under the hot stage lights. It had taken an hour alone to get through to the 'F's. He could only imagine how long Aria had been waiting.

Ezra could just make her out in the sea of students that waiting onstage. She'd matured over the years he'd known her, but that was a given. Aria had never grown from being 5 five tall, but her figure filled out and she had begun to dress in a style that was almost as quirky as the words that came from her mouth. She grew her hair longer and painted her lips a light red now and then. But despite growing into her beauty, Aria was still Aria.

She must have had superhero-like vision because Ezra could've sworn he saw Aria give a small wave in his direction. He was nowhere close to Byron, not that he could see the older man through the crowd, but Aria probably would not have winked at her father. He blushed, shaking his head in amusement.

Did he mention he was in love with her?

Ezra had realized it on her 20th birthday last year. Aria had invited him out with her and a bunch of her friends to a bowling alley near school. At first, he'd protested, saying it wasn't his place and that they'd celebrate at her father's townhouse some other time, but Aria was stubborn; when she insisted, she persisted until she got her way. Ezra had no idea where it had come from. He'd been watching her take her turn to bowl her ball down the lane, sipping back on a beer that he'd let Aria take a couple sips from. When the ball made a clear strike through the pins, Aria had let out a joyous cheer. It was in that moment where the butterflies in Ezra's stomach clicked; he was in love with Aria Montgomery.

Of course, he hadn't told her yet. He'd been harboring it for a year and had no intentions of telling her quite yet. Today was Aria's day – Ezra wouldn't ruin it with his pesky feelings.

"Aria Montgomery; graduating with a BFA in Vocal Performance with a focus in Musical Theatre." The voice of the dean dragged Ezra from his reminiscing to see Aria stand and walk carefully towards the podium to receive her diploma. He chuckled; she was wearing six inch heels and doing her best not to fall over in the stiletto pumps. Aria hated how short she was whereas Ezra found it endearing.

Her manicured hand snatched up the diploma and Aria looked out to the audience to give a sincerely charming smile. She knew how to work a crowd, but one would having grown up with an arguably famous father and performing onstage. Ezra felt his heart falter slightly. It was that smile which made him weak at the knees. The corners of her mouth would lift, her hazel eyes would glitter, and Ezra would be mush on the floor.

As she walked back to her seat, she gave him another small wave again. Aria could see Ezra clearly while standing in her high heels. He waved back and her smile widened. That was his girl.

* * *

"You were late, you jerk," Aria smirked. She'd burst into the small Chinese restaurant that the small trio had called their own, causing Ezra to choke on the scotch he'd been nursing. Other diners looked up, but their reaction wasn't one of the typical disturbed restaurant goer – they smiled. Aria had a certain aura to her that made people's hearts lighter. It made Ezra's heart thump.

"I was in rehearsal," Ezra defended, getting up to pull her chair out for her. If there was one thing he was, it was a gentleman.

Aria rolled her eyes as she sat down in her white gauze dress. "Always in rehearsal. You should've told them that your mother broke her leg and you needed to go watch _The Sound of Music_ with her to make her feel better."

Ezra chuckled. "That's a completely bogus excuse." Aria never thought logically; she thought outside the box.

After many years of Byron's constant and enduring mentoring, Ezra became a semi-successful playwright. He'd written a play or two, but had been striking gold with unique Off-Broadway musicals. Of course, the dream was to see his name on a window card that belonged to a Broadway hit, but he had money in the bank account, food in the fridge, and a nice apartment. Ezra couldn't complain.

"It's less boring than saying you had to go to a graduation," she replied, taking her water glass to her lips. Aria gulped down a sip and placed the pristine glass back down on the table. Her finger nimbly picked at something on the bodice of her dress – perhaps a loose string or something.

Ezra looked behind them both towards the door. He'd gotten a table for three, but it was only two and wasn't appearing to change. "Isn't your father coming?"

"He was behind deadline, so he stayed home to write. Looks like it's just me and you," Aria said, flashing him her infamous smile.

Being alone with Aria made Ezra's stomach coil up into several knots. And then those knots were twisted and turned into another set and so on. He didn't know how to be alone with her anymore. Byron being around was a buffer, a blockage of sorts for the words that buzzed around Ezra's head, but never translated onto his tongue. Now, he was sitting across from the object of his affection in a dimly lit eatery. It could've been a date. Except it wasn't.

"You don't have a problem with that, do you?" He hadn't realized how quiet he'd been in those past few moments. Ezra had been trying to figure out what to say whereas meanwhile he wasn't saying anything. "It's like talking to radio silence."

"No," he replied to her, shaking his head furiously. Ezra had no problem being alone with Aria, as difficult as it may have been. He just needed to be cautious. For Aria's sanity and for the sake of his own heart. "Not at all. I'm actually glad. We never get to have one on one time. Byron's always butting in his two cents."

"He's annoying, isn't he," Aria laughed, taking another sip of her water. She looked beautiful; fresh faced and flushed with excitement over graduation. Her dark hair was styled into a messy side braid, curly tendrils framing her doll-like face. With peachy lips, Aria was the picture of perfection. It took his every cell not to lean over the table and kiss her wildly.

"Annoying perhaps, but a great teacher." Albeit a bit of a "cockblock", Ezra would not have been where he was today if he hadn't stepped onto Byron's front stoop when he was 16. He'd probably be teaching somewhere with a broken dream hiding out in his back pocket while he directed school plays.

"I don't need the spiel about my father. I am well aware of his handiwork," Aria smiled, folding her hands underneath her chin as she watched him. Ezra could feel her eyes on him, but it was something he was used to. She was always studying people, getting a read on their emotions and facial expressions. It was how Aria always knew when he was lying or upset. Even though Ezra claimed to hate how she could always figure him out, deep down, he loved it; it was settling to know she cared enough.

A waitress came over to greet them both. Aria and Ezra were almost _too_ familiar with the restaurant – they didn't even need to look at the menu to place their orders. She ordered plain lo mein noodles with vegetable stir fry to fit her vegetarian needs. He ordered Sesame Chicken and Coconut Sticky Rice. In the past, Ezra would order a vodka soda and let Aria take a few sips. Now, she could order her own. Except just as she was about to ask for one, Ezra splurged and asked her to bring a bottle of champagne.

It wasn't a bottle of the finest fizzy liquid, but it would certainly do for the occasion. As soon as the waitress brought over their two glasses, Ezra raised his.

"To the beginning of your life," he toasted, watching the grin on Aria's face as she clinked her glass with his.


	3. Chapter 3

**Friends, I give you chapter three of Being Alive. I'm loving your feedback on the story, so please keep it up! 20 or more reviews will get you an update faster, I promise. Life's just been hectic with college applications and auditions. **

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.**

* * *

The idea that New York in the rain was romantic was one that was only true in sappy romance novels that were sold in corner convenience stores. In reality, the streets were riddled with puddles and the sea of umbrellas was almost impossible to move through. Ezra chewed on his bottom lip as he maneuvered his way through the messy sidewalk. Though Hardy Mitchell was his friend, this was a meeting he couldn't compromise being late to. If everything went right, Ezra would have a director for his finally finished, full length musical.

He kept his leather satchel close to his body as he pushed his way through the rain and the swarm of bodies. The door knob to the coffee shop he was meeting his college roommate was in Ezra's grasp and within seconds the cool blast of an air conditioner greeted him. It was mid-July and seasonably _way_ too hot.

"Here I thought you were going to bail on me."

Ezra shook out his wet curls and looked up to see the taunting face of his old buddy. Hardy was the type of guy who took Ezra to parties in order to set him up with a girl and ended up sleeping with his chosen target instead. Not that Ezra was much interested in the plastic blondes Hardy usually picked. Hardy balanced him out with his carefree qualities and allowed Ezra to let just a little while. However, when it came to his career, Hardy wasn't as nonchalant.

"You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get somewhere on time when everyone is jammed together with umbrellas."

Hardy rolled his eyes. "I live in this city too. But you wouldn't know that with the way you've holed yourself up over the past year."

"Someone had to write this musical," Ezra replied, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs opposite Hardy. He opened his damp satchel, thankful that the leather kept everything inside relatively dry. After wiping his hands on his equally damp jeans, Ezra fished out the score and book to his completed project. "It's not easy being both the composer, lyricist, and book writer."

"Good thing you've mastered that then," Hardy replied, taking a sip from his wide lipped coffee mug.

Ezra shook his head in amusement. "Hardly. I've let too many distractions come in the way of me finishing this baby on schedule."

"Would that distraction happen to begin with an 'A' and end with a 'ria'?"

He couldn't have shot Hardy a more deathly look. The sandy haired man was constantly teasing Ezra about the torch he had lit for Aria. Especially since he hadn't gone after quenching the flame. The difference between Ezra and Hardy was that the former was one who waited for fate to happen; the latter went and got what he wanted no matter the cost.

"No," Ezra said, flipping through the libretto and score as a way to deviate from Hardy's prodding question. "Anyways, we're not here to talk about my love life. We're here so I can convince you to direct my show."

Hardy let out a tut, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disapproval of Ezra's shyness on the subject of Aria. "I'm just saying, it's been years Ezra. She's just graduated and is going out into the real world. You might want to snatch her up before she moves on with her life and forgets about you."

"That's real reassuring. Now will you read the damn script?"

An hour later, Ezra nervously sipped on a huge cup of coffee. He'd been watching Hardy's face expressions as he read over his script. The need for approval was grating on him and Ezra was thankful that he had the mug in his hands so that he wouldn't be picking away at his nails.

As Hardy slammed it down on the table, Ezra jumped and almost spilled his coffee. "I'll direct it. I don't know why you made me read it – I'd have directed anything you put into my hands even if I thought it was shit."

Ezra beamed, totally disregarding Hardy's jab. He'd written some real crappy pieces in the past, but only did he realize how ridiculous they were when he saw them performed at a low-end theatre or cabaret bar.

"So now we have to talk producers. You should talk to Byron about that; he might know—"

Hardy's words were cut off from the beeping of Ezra's phone. Holding up his hand for a moment, Ezra pressed the green button and allowed the caller to come through. His previously furrowed expression turned to one of blank emotion. "I'll be right there," Ezra murmured, hanging up within seconds.

"We're going to have to talk this another time," he said to Hardy, quickly packing up his satchel. "There's been an emergency."

* * *

Life is a funny thing. One moment you had success and the next it could be ripped away from you. What was even funnier to Ezra was death. As he sat dejectedly in a hard backed chair in one of New York City's hospitals, he contemplated the life of Byron Montgomery; how he had everything just within fingers reach and now those fingertips were cold and lifeless.

The rain in the city certainly didn't have the slightest romantic overture anymore. It had been an accident; a cab skidded in a puddle and hit Byron whilst he was crossing the street. But a life was lost nonetheless. Aria had lost her father and Ezra lost the man who guided him for most of his teenage and adult life. He hadn't even made it to the hospital and was pronounced dead in the ambulance.

He didn't know why he and Aria were sitting in the hospital. Byron's body had been long since taken away hours ago. It was as if the moment they stepped back out onto the streets, it would be official. Byron Montgomery was gone and there was nothing neither of them could do to change the fact.

Aria's body trembled, but she wasn't crying like she had been earlier when Ezra arrived at the hospital. She was curled up into Ezra's side. Luckily, the chairs didn't have armrests. His shirt was damp, but not from the rain any more. He'd let Aria cry and blow her nose against the fabric. It would just need a good washing when he got home. Ezra's fingers stroked through Aria's hair gently as she sat, staring at the wall in front of them.

"I don't want to go home," she murmured. Ezra didn't think he'd ever seen Aria like this – so broken, so lost. Any spark of warmth in her eyes was gone and her skin was pale. The fluorescent lighting in the room didn't help matters much.

"I told you I'd stay over. I'm not going to let you be alone."

"I don't want to go home," Aria repeated once more. "Going home means this is real. I don't have a dad anymore."

Ezra sucked in a deep breath. The smallness of her voice made him want to shrivel up inside. This was something he couldn't fix. He didn't have the ability to snap his fingers and make Byron magically appear again. It wasn't as simple as getting her a cup of coffee as a quick pick me up.

"That's not true," he countered as Aria sniffled. "He'll always be with you, Ar, as cheesy as that sounds."

"Can you not try to cheer me up right now," she asked him meekly. But Ezra didn't retort back. He knew he had to let her grieve. Aria wasn't going to be smiling at any point during the course of that day or maybe the rest of the week. It would kill him not to see that megawatt grin.

"Obliged," he replied, brushing his fingertips gently through Aria's hair.

Given that Ezra had grown up with practically nobody but Byron and Aria, it didn't hit him until then just how hard this would be for her to get over. Her father had always been her constant; Ezra had figured that out from the first day she'd offered him junk food while he waited in their kitchen. A part of him was jealous. Ezra never had that. While Byron and Aria slotted him into their family, he didn't belong to them.

Ezra watched a few more tears drip down Aria's cheek and his gut wrenched slightly. Her tears would be his undoing – within the week, Ezra considered himself a dead man.


End file.
